


Make a ladder of what folds and climb up in the air

by mathildaimperatrix



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, GONE GIRL AU, Gen, Kinda, probably with a happier ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildaimperatrix/pseuds/mathildaimperatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then they would go to sleep, one in each side of the bed, not touching, not talking, never talking. And on and on and on, till death do us apart. Amen.</p><p>Or, a Gone Girl AU in which Elia tries to get out before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipperman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipperman/gifts).



> Hello! So this is basically a Gone Girl AU where Elia is Amy and Rhaegar is Nick. It will not be exactly as the book but the basic layout is still there, with, hopefully, a few surprises. This is not beta'ed so if you find mistakes, they are mine (also, my mother tongue is not english so there's that). I already have half of the second chap written and I'm planning it to be about 5 in total? Anyway.
> 
> This is a gift for Gabriel in his birthday.

** Before **

Looking at the screen of her phone where a familiar number kept popping up every few minutes, Elia reflected that maybe calling her brother (her overprotective and exaggerated brother) wasn’t the best idea at that time. She had been in the edge of a panic attack, gripping the kitchen aisle and begging her husband wouldn’t arrived asking where his fucking harp cleaner was (top drawer, in the hall) as if nothing had happened. Her phone wouldn’t stop vibrating in her hand, her sweaty, white knuckled hand, and she knew she couldn’t stop the force of nature that was her brother. If she didn’t answer, then he would call the landline, then the police or worse: he would drive all the way from Sunspear to know what had happened to her.

She ended the incoming call once again and quieted her heavy breath. Maybe Rhaegar hadn’t come just yet, keeping the appearances was a tricky part of belonging to their family, one that they couldn’t just slip away once they came home. _Did you like dinner? Yes, of course, your parents were lovely. Remind me of buying more cleaner tomorrow, would you?_ And then they would go to sleep, one in each side of the bed, not touching, not talking, never talking. And on and on and on, till death do us apart. Amen.

At the early hours of the day and with no work that day, the house was as silent as a tomb. Her neighbors were sleeping peacefully, unaware, and no one in the world knew a fucking thing of what had happened. It was a distinctive feeling, and she felt like a different person. Not eight hours ago she was wondering about what to wear and now… now such thing seemed to belong to the past. A different world altogether. Her breathing became normal and deep, finally able to think.

For once, Balerion wasn’t destroying the furniture. Elia, automatically, filled the tiny bowl with cat food and dropped herself on the couch, still clutching her phone. The green button glared at her, daring her to take the call and end both of their suffering. She did, waiting just a bit for the shouting to stop.

“ _… the fuck, Elia?_ _Why would you text me that? I was scared something happened to you. I know I’m your brother and you can tell me anything but that kind of stuff is best if you explain it. Are you there? Hello? Can’t believe she’s_ …”

“Oberyn,” she said softer, loving, immediately calming his temper. She had always been able to do that just by voice.

 “ _So you are there. Care to hang up again so we can keep playing? I could make Ellaria do it, too. I’ve got the whole night, darling_.”

“Shut up, you are giving me a real headache,” she said, a small smile on her face. She heard noises at the end of the line, probably Ellaria telling her brother she wouldn’t call Elia just to annoy her. They didn’t know a thing.

“ _Tell me what happened”_

And she told him.

That day they had a party (something or other about his latest achievement) at Mr. and Mrs. Targaryen’s house, Rhaegar’s parents and holders of the majority of the company’s money. They didn’t need the money, but her husband, as the older son, had to suck up to them for the only reason that Mr. Targaryen didn’t trust his children, not even tiny Dany whose only crimes was stealing sweets from the kitchen. Elia liked her and in her weakest moments she imagined having a little girl just like her, cute and dimpled.

Soon, she drifted to socialize with the other guests, keeping an eye on Rhaegar, a habit she couldn’t shake in so many years of marriage. She talked with a few Hightowers (childhood friends, especially handsome Baelor) and helped Viserys, Rhaegar’s little brother, with his undone tie. He looks so much like him, she had thought, while she finished, patting his head.

She hadn’t seen her husband since she saw him talking with one of his interns: pretty and light and entirely too much like any other girl she had ever met that roamed her husband’s office in a daily basis. At the beginning, she had been infuriatingly jealous of them and even her older brother, even _Doran_ , had said it seemed odd that not one of those interns were male in a field in which it was 50-50. So, okay, she got over it (in time) because she was an adult woman and that didn’t mean anything besides the fact many girls worked in an office that happened to be Rhaegar’s. Besides, he was too serious, too focused in his work to seek affairs; his time with the company wouldn’t allow him to spend time outside of it. Or so she believed.

Not one thought was wasted in the pretty thing in Rhaegar’s arm, instead, she wandered through the room making small cordial chat with acquaintances and politely answering their question about their marriage. Yes, they were happily going on six years. Children? They haven’t thought about them but they’ll be sure to let everyone know when they were. It was a wonder nobody noticed the tight smiles and the same dull topics spilling from her mouth in every gathering.

A prickle of awareness made her turn around only to see her mother-in-law chattering with Joanna Lannister, neither turned to her but she could still feel someone watching her. No stranger to unwanted glances, she swept her gaze lazily through the room and spotted, half in shadows, a face, a long and pale face who stared at her, flinching only when Elia frowned, asking.

The girl retreated back into the shadows and she soon forgot about it when Dany came running to her to show her a lizard she had found in one of the potted plants along the main corridors. Elia indulged her aw-ing and oh-ing at the tiny animal in the child’s hand.

“I wanted to show it to Viserys, but he says lizards are stupid,” she said with a pout. “ _You_ don’t think that, right, Elia?”

She shook her head, distracted by the sound of Rhaegar’s voice in one of the rooms along the corridors. It sounded muffled. Why would he be locked in a room when practically everyone in the party was there too see him? She took Dany’s hand (the one without the lizard, thank the Gods) and brought her to where Rhaella was apparently lecturing Viserys near the window. She gave Elia one last look before she happily went to her mother to show her her new pet.

The thought of her husband appeared on her mind. That year he had been acting strange, too much the perfect husband and too amiable with her and their friends, when, most of the time, he was anything but. Immersed as he always was with work and that meant his family history by extension (something he was obsessed about and something Elia hadn’t really gave much thought at the beginning), Rhaegar was quiet at best and neglectful at worst. She lost counts of the time she thought about just leaving him and the house, one perfect world where there wasn’t space for her. It was not hard to know that he wouldn’t miss her as much as she wanted.

Then why they had married? A deal. A contract made by their families long before she was even born. It was not the stuff of fairy tales but at the beginning she had believed most romantic to be married to such a handsome stranger. With his silver hair and violet eyes he was everything a girl wanted, nothing like the boys back home (because in the Water Garden they were _boys_ and he was a _man_ ). Her mother had said it was a business opportunity for the family and it was her duty to make the most of it. Young and dutiful Elia Martell hadn’t worried about an abusive husband because she knew her mother wouldn’t do that to her and because if he was, then there wasn’t anything that could stop Oberyn.

She took satisfaction in that thought.

But years married and years gained in maturity showed her the physical hurt wasn’t the only kind there was. How could she fault him if he didn’t actually _do_ anything? So she pushed all back, a facade in place and her fears boiling near the surface.

Being curious by nature filled her head with questions regarding her husband’s activity behind closed doors. He was the son of the hostess, he had to be there, beside her or mingling and politely laughing with the guesses. Why wasn’t he there? She tapped her foot repeatedly on the floor, easing her nerves. She downed her drink in one sitting and made sure no one was paying attention to her.

She stepped in the corridor quietly.

The rug under her feet swallowed any sound she could make. _A study_ , she remembered what the door led to. Rhaella has showed it to her proudly displaying the good taste she had always envied on her mother-in-law. Wood and leather, a big window and the softest myrish carpet imaginable. Now the party noises were muffled, unintelligible in the distance.

At the other side, she could make out a painting of some older Targaryen ancestor, dressed in shadows but with unmistakable silver hair. The door was close now, the feel of smooth wood just out of reach but enough close to stretch her hand and touch it if she wanted. But did she? It crept up on her, the feeling that it had been dormant in her for so many years. Fear. Uncertainty. Distress.

“I do,” she murmured, licking her lips. “I have to.”

She took one moment for herself and heard more sounds coming through the door. A pant. A hit. Voices.

The pommel was twisted very lightly to the right, her hand deadly pale. The noises kept going which, oddly, gave her valor to continue. It was thanks to Rhaella good eye that not one of the doors in the house creaked, such a vulgar thing didn't have a place in the ancestral Targaryen home. Small as she was, she could slip through it and as in a dream she was in.

Alice through the looking glass. Had she being as scared as Elia was right now?

His back was to her and the pale face from before was trailing kisses in her husband's neck. An amorous embrace couldn't be more obvious if they were stripped to the flesh; her legs interlocked just above his waist and Elia knew she was sited in the desk, a desk she had only seen once when Rhaegar was kind enough to show her some of his work. One of her hands was still gripping the pommel, white knuckled and angry.

Words. They were talking as if her rage wasn't as big and explosive as she felt it inside of her. How hadn't they notice her? The girl could look up any moment and see her standing by the door but she hadn't, too occupied with what he was saying.

“We'll really do it? Is it finally possible?” The girl asked, hopeful.

Rhaegar took his time to answer but when he did it was so different from when they talked at home (the few occasions they did). “Of course,” His tone reminded her of the first and only happy year of their marriage and her heart started pounding loudly in her ears.

She wanted to go, she felt like a voyeur, an intruder in a moment that didn't belong to her. _I am his wife but she…_ Angry tears swelled in her eyes, unable to look away.

“What about…” The girl look up and their eyes met for an infinite second. Not an outward sign suggested anything to Rhaegar. “Your wife?”

“I will deal with her in time,” He lowered his head and placed a kiss on her collarbone. “Don't you worry your pretty head, Lya.”

A glimpse of triumph in her dark eyes was the last thing she saw. And the first thing she woke up to every morning that week. Dark and unyielding from hers, gloating.

She left, she had to.

As she had done before, she slipped back and closed the door with the minimum noise, a thief leaving without a treasure. A failure. When she was far enough, a sob escaped her lips and with the back of her hand she dried her eyes, carelessly. Her phone vibrated in her purse, an email perhaps or something from one of her brothers, either way, it was out of her purse in a second.

She typed quickly while she padded out of the corridor, then put her phone in and took a deep breath. She felt clearer now, sharper, like when you clean the mirror after taking a hot shower and you can see your face looking back at you, a stranger. She worked on autopilot after that, she said her goodbyes and excused herself with a sudden headache.

“Are you sure you are alright, dear?” Asked Rhaella with a worried expression. She was grateful Mr. Targaryen wasn’t with her; there was always something that made her uncomfortable around him. “Don’t you want me to call Rhaegar? I’m sure I saw him around here somewhere…”

“Please, don’t worry about me. I had a busy day at work, and I wouldn’t want to interrupt him of enjoying the party,” Mrs. Targaryen patted their joined hands in comfort and Elia smiled in return.

When she looked back, Rhaella was frowning.

Her car was ready at the front, thanks to the Targaryen’s valet and the Gods for deciding to go to the gathering directly from work. Her car, her little and familiar world, almost made her tear up again.

Her phone beeped. She tried digging it out of her purse but driving the car with one hand just wasn’t one of her abilities. She let it ring once and then twice in the space of a few minutes. Who could be calling her at this hour? the scene at the studio kept replaying itself on her mind: the embrace, the talk and the girl’s eyes, her expression of victory at knowing she had won over her. I will deal with her in time. _Deal with me? In what way?_ , she mused. Would he be capable of-

No. Rhaegar wasn’t like that. She knew him. She wanted to think she knew his character enough to reassure herself. They had been living together for almost a decade, which was a long time in the company of one person. The only other person she had lived with was Oberyn and she knew him like the back of her hand: his likes and dislikes, what made him tick and what made him sad; and in return he did the same. They were like twins, their mother had said once, fondly and exasperated.

With a pang, she realized. She didn’t truly know the man she had married. He would _deal_ with her, the how was unknown to her but the fear and anger gripped her tightly like a fresh wound, still oozing blood.

When she went out of the car, she was panting heavily. In and out, in and out. Sweating and in need of hiding in the dark, like an animal in the face of danger. Her phone ringed again and she finally remembered why. A text. A text sent to her brother amidst confusion and hurt and anger.

_I’m going to kill my husband._


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is set in motion.

Her brother listened to her in an awfully calm demeanor. He didn’t interrupt in his usual, loud manner or started asking a thousand questions like she expected. She glanced at her wristwatch and saw that it was almost early morning; Rhaegar wasn’t there yet so that meant that he had decided to stay in his parent’s house like they were known to do when it was too late to drive back. Better for her.

She felt an echo of hurt that he hadn’t called to ask how she was feeling (if Rhaella ever told him, that is), or if she had arrived safely home. Rhaegar should had known she had left early, they were still married, cheating or not. _He has her, why should it matter now?_

She finished her story but her brother still was silent, she couldn’t even hear Ellaria in the background. She was about to end the call when he spoke.

“ _We will speak after work, sister_ ,” he said carefully. “ _Do not tell anyone else._ ”

“I’m not a little girl anymore. I know what I have to do.”

Oberyn mumbled something as she ended the call, not wanting to deal with her brother making a fuss over the phone. Sleep eluded her when she reclined in the couch for a bit, her headache was raging by that point, pounding and making her put one of the cushions over her head. Would he find her like this, laying in the couch and pretending that the outside world didn’t exist? Would he had one of those fond smiles he always reserved for her, thinking that she was just tired? Would he _know_?

Would _she_ tell him? For some reason, she didn’t think the girl would tell Rhaegar about her being there too. It was such a perfect moment of power, power over her, the wife. The girl could fuck him senseless while the poor wife cried a river alone in her house. She understood that.

The alarm on her phone told her it was time to prepare for work. Eight hours of pretending she didn’t find her husband and a child half his age about to fuck in a desk. Doran would be proud of her calmness.

She managed to make herself perfect and not even Ashara noticed anything strange. How much she wanted to tell her. They’ve been friends for years, since they were little and playing in the Water Gardens, and they knew everything about each other. They chatted, Ashara told her about her night at her brother’s house and how she thought he wanted to join the military but didn’t wanted to say anything to her. It almost felt like normality.

The highlight of her day came when she found a text from Rhaegar: _“Hey, mom told me about last night. you ok?”_

 _Why, of course, darling husband, I am as fine as rain. I spend the whole night thinking about that girl sucking you off and then killing me._ Instead, she wrote she was alright and that he shouldn’t worry about her. Elia imagined Rhaegar seated in his chair, texting her and then smiling at the girl because she asked who it was and he said “oh, just my wife” and then they’ll laugh merrily.

Gods. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t be thinking about them all day, it wasn’t healthy and she needed more self respect than that. She texted Oberyn to confirm their dinner date and then, for the rest of the day, tried to appear as calm and happy with her life as possible. It was not as if her husband was going to do anything to her, or as if that girl had something personal against her. No, nothing of the sorts. 

The day ended with a click of her computer, turning it off and putting pens and papers back in their place, she could even pretend they were her own thoughts and that she was doing something to order her mind too. The office was almost empty by then, Ashara wanted to wait for her and go for drinks like they usually did, but fear of blurting out what happened, she said she couldn’t. And now that the time to see Oberyn came closer, she was starting to regret everything.

The rest of her co-worker waved at her and she reciprocated, feeling as stiff as corpse while doing it. Her workplace was the fifth floor of a government building with the task of protecting and restoring the cultural heritage of Westeros, mostly dealing with the First Men’s ancient sites of worship and Andal’s septs. Elia often was the one dealing with the paperwork and permissions (the septons were always prickly about anyone touching anything, specially in their old age), while Oberyn, in the first years, fancied himself an archaeologist. Until he got bored, of course.

Now, well, now she was glad the family money allowed him to pursue his eccentricities in peace.

If mother was alive, she always thought, she would had made her brother work alongside Doran in the upper floor where the lawyers where. Oberyn for sure would had hated that.

The restaurant they picked had a dornish theme, which suited them just fine because she wasn’t about to hear her brother complaining the whole meal about how bland everything was, it was enough with his nagging. _Sometimes he is worst than mother_ , she mused. 

He glared at her above the menu and she did the same, knowing his game. Ellaria wasn’t with him and she was glad because she didn’t think she could deal with her soft looks and pity which will probably make her cry on her lap. They waited until the waiter came back with their orders and then he started.

“If you are truly thinking of killing your piece of shit husband then I will help you.”

 _Gods, what’s wrong with me?_ , she thought again while she ducked to find a tissue in her purse, there were not actual tears but she was close.

“Would you really do that for me?” she asked, dumbly, even though she knew the answer, “I mean, no, I don’t want to kill him. Or her.”

“Are you sure?”

A sight. “Yes.”

She swallowed a spoonful of her soup, but it was insipid in her mouth, as if she had a cold. Oberyn kept gracelessly stabbing his food, probably imagining her or her husband’s face in it.

“Your food is getting cold, you know,” carefully, he chewed and sipped his wine without taking his eyes off of her, not budging. _I will not talk if he keeps playing with me_. A pause, “How are Ellaria and the girls?”

“What’ wrong with you?” her brother was a mighty thing when he exploded, she knew. For once, she wished they weren’t at a public place because then his fury wouldn’t feel so cold, “You had me all day worried you would do something you would regret later, like killing him alone or running away”

“I told you I wasn’t in my right mind. But I’m fine now. If I was really in trouble I would have called Doran, don’t you think?” he nodded reluctantly, aware of their older brother’s power. Sometimes it was a joke during family dinners, how Doran could make the president quit or break anyone out of prison with just words.

“But this is not Doran’s kind of trouble, right?”

“No, it’s exactly yours.” she admitted wit a shrug.

The realization that her problem wasn’t something to be discussed with her older brother hit her low. She always had been able to talk to Doran about anything if she wanted a serious and sensible answer, in the absence of a father who died when they were young; Oberyn was the action to Doran’s calm, one couldn’t have one brother without the other. And Elia, well, Elia liked to be the happy medium whenever it was possible.

The voices in the restaurant lulled them into privacy, their food finished and a glass of their favorite wine had made them chatty and looser. A text from Ashara interrupted them, making her brother pull a face at her. _“R is asking abt u? told him u were with bro”._

She typed quickly before he tried to make a dash for her phone and answer himself with some rude comment (which had happened before, once). So now he was worried. _Afraid of me not coming home?_ , she thought half amused, half uncertain. Why couldn’t he text her directly? It was not like _she_ was the cheater in the relationship. And why Ashara and not, say, her brother? _Is he fucking her too?_

She downed her glass of wine, trying to drown her thoughts. Ashara was her best friend, it wouldn't do her any good to start doubting all her friends for the rest of her life, half afraid of someone much closer to her carrying her husband’s threat (because it was one, even if he didn’t know she was listening). It was destroying her piece by piece and only a day had passed!

Did all the cheated women felt like Elia did in that moment? scorned, confused, angry, miserable.

“I want him to pay.”

His brother's pleased grin lighted up the whole room.

 

* * *

 

 

So they had a plan. A quite carefully, organized plan.

Divorcing wasn’t an option, it was clear. Too easy and too accommodating for someone who hadn’t made Elia’s life any of those things. She would disappear without a trace and her presence would haunt Rhaegar’s life forever, she would make him as guilty as she could and the scandal would follow him to everywhere he went. If she was lucky, the girl would leave him (probably out of fear because who would be as coldhearted as to kill their own wife?) and then Elia would be free and happy.

Oberyn would help her but the time and place of her disappearance would fall only on her. He, of course, had been unhappy about it, he had wanted to know everything and make the arrangements, and it was not like he would tell the police, or worse, the Targaryens. And she knew this as she knew that Oberyn loved her, but she couldn’t make him be so deep involve. He would know she was safe, but the details were for herself only.

When the time was right, he would tell Doran and she would really disappear for a few years. A dandelion in the wind, floating until it got lost away.

Who knew she had it in her? Certainly not Rhaegar. 

The house was silent again, a facsimile of the night before. Balerion greeted her with a wave of his tail, from his little basket in the corner. Before all ended, she had to find someone to take care of him, she couldn’t trust her husband to care for a cat when he didn’t even buy the groceries himself. Music was coming out of the upper floor, a sweet, sad melody that in other could move her to tears, but now? Now she felt cold.

She put on a smile.

“Honey? I’m home!”

He didn’t answer, which she expected, but the music stopped. _That’s new._ She scratched little Balerion’s head while she hung her coat and made her way to their bedroom. Rhaegar did not come to meet her but he also didn't play the music again, a strange limbo neither of them was accustomed.

“You were with Oberyn,” it was the first thing he said to her since yesterday. It was not strange for them to spend days without talking to each other, but I felt different now. _Does he know?_ , she asked herself again.

She didn't turn her back. Her blouse was still modestly on and his voice drifted from the door, she took off her pendants and necklace, too, handling them with care. They were a birthday gift from Rhaella, she remembered. She hummed in agreement, waiting for him to go so she could dress down without him assessing every movement.

“You should have told me. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Did you?” The small rebellion felt sweet in her mouth where meekness was a common flavor. She didn't stand around to look at his expression. Her face was raw and crude under the white light of the bathroom, and she wondered if he could tell by the slope of her mouth or just by the look in her eyes. Oberyn certainly knew it was not as fine as she had said in her early morning call. _But what do you expect from the man who barely acknowledges you?_

While she was in the bathroom, she made a list of all the things she had to do before going to sleep. Call Ashara. Decide if a diary would be necessary for the plan. Eat, and then feed Balerion. Make a grocery list for the next day.

Force of habit, made her seek her husband when she exited the bathroom. He wasn't there, probably losing his patience when she didn't come out immediately at his beck and call. _Not anymore._ The music resumed in a low, wailing not. She did not see him until, after half asleep in the bed, he rolled down besides her and turn off the lights. 

When he left the next morning, she rolled to his side and felt the warm left by his body. In the beginning, she used to do it (especially if they had sex) like a schoolgirl with a crush, touching his pillow and picturing his head laying on it as he dreamed. Of her perhaps, she thought when she was basking in the after-sex glow and her work didn't demand her to be early. His warm was still there, she noted, but it wasn't as alluring as it was before.

She laid there and began to think until the sun shone so bright through the window drapes, she had to leave the bed. In the office, she spent the day worrying about what would her family would say when the news of her disappearance would be known. Her friends, Ashara and her brother, Baelor and Malora Hightower, all the people she had met in the course of her life would be wondering where she went. Was she murdered? Taken? The wrong person at the wrong time.

Ashara wandered to her office, her bright purple eyes as inviting as ever.

“You never did tell me what happened last night,” she started as a greeting. Taking a seat near her in the office couch, a present from Doran. “Rhaegar sounded weird when he called me.”

“He called you? How curious,” her friend raised one single, perfect eyebrow. Elia didn’t know how could she think she was sleeping with her husband and she felt ashamed. “It’s fine. We made up. He was just worried because he hadn’t seen me since the party.”

“Hum. That’s not it, though. I think he was actually worried, or irritated. You know how hard is to read him.”

An opening. She could see a new branch of the plan stretching out before her eyes. She wished she didn’t feel so bad for manipulating her best friend.

“I thought so,” she looked at her hands, and summoned all the hurt of the past years, sadly, something very easy to do. “Rhaegar and I— We’ve been having problems lately, and it has become difficult for me to… to be around him.” her meaning behind the pause very clear.

She didn’t look up as Ashara shifted closer to her, taking on of her hands in hers, warm and comforting. Maybe it wasn’t really manipulation when it was actual problems, she was just voicing them to a friendly ear.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Elia? I knew something was happening between the two of you but I figured that because you weren’t telling me it wasn’t that much of a deal. But it is, isn’t it?” Elia nodded, mirroring Ashara’s pursed lips. “Does Oberyn knows about it?”

“No, please, Ash, you can’t tell anyone, especially not my brother, you know how he is. Even telling you my marriage is failing is too much for me right now.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding. Plenty aware of how touchy the subject was for her and her family. Doran and Mellario’s nasty separation always came to mind in those situations. “I am glad you told me.”

“And I,” she agreed, partly truthful. As always, with Ashara’s friendly demeanor, it was easy to share every ugly bit of her marriage, the negligence and the creeping loneliness that had become a part of her for the past years.

True to her past self, she constructed an image, much more polished than her real self, but with the rough edges of truth. The ugliness and the bitterness, then empty house and her suspicions. Only a little bit of suspicions was everything her friend needed to offer her brother Arthur to beat her husband up.

“They are friends, he wouldn't do that for a little doubt born in loneliness.”

“You know he would do anything for you," she answered seriously. "We both would.”

And she believed her.

If she kept that up, then she would have a little army, a group who believed her and would defend her when the time was up.

She would had tear up in the spot (she was still a sentimental woman after all) if it wasn't for the pile of paperwork she had to do. The latest expedition to Mors Island (a tiny thing in the great vast of the Sea of Dorne, named for one of Dorne’s first king when the land was still ruled by them) had proven fruitful, a half buried sept showed a mixture of Rhoynar and Andal architecture. It was truly a thing of beauty, historically, at least. It was a little break that made her blissfully forget her present.

Many family vacations had consisted in exploring these islands (and Norvos too when Mellario was with them) so she had a fair idea of how it looked, even if she didn't have photos. Elia longed for those holidays spent in the company of her family, feeling carefree and loved without reservations. Many times Oberyn had invited her during her marriage but for some reason she never could go with them or go to the mini holidays her brother and Ellaria always seemed to be inviting her. Where had the fun-loving girl she'd been go?

 _I was too busy attending Rhaegar's needs and being his companion when he needed a pretty thing to show off at parties._ Those reunions had been the source of misery for her but now the reunions at Rhaegar’s parents were the perfect occasion for her. Many of her acquaintances attended often, many of them knowing Rhaegar’s aloof character. If she were to drop a word or two in their ears, begging for having her voice heard, the voice of a desperate women, surely there’ll be someone sympathetic of her cries.

So she did it. It was more often than not having those reunions, a birthday, a promotion, little Dany’s top marks in school, Viserys’ football team winning a match. But she wasn’t just dropping words, oh no, it was much more than that, it had levels and as complex and detailed as the clothes she would be wearing the day of her disappearance. It was brilliant, if she said so herself.

The week after, with a pained and almost fearful reaction, she had realized that she had to be how she was before knowing. Her last rebellion was to be the only one Rhaegar would know of her because then, he might suspect something was amiss. How could his wife change so quickly, when the night before she worshipped his every step? And if he did, would he go to her and ask her first? or would he plan her to kill her quicker, stopping what he couldn't know was coming? That was the only thing she didn’t have any answer to, or a way of knowing what he was doing about that exactly, and what woke her up at night wondering if there was going to be a knife at her back, sticking out and bloody. 

Elia had never been the type to stop worrying about things, her mother had called her a worrywart many times when she was a child, but how could she not, how could she stop _?_ She would have to execute the plan fast, she wouldn’t give him a chance to get the upper hand, and even if he won… he wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy having his precious Lya between his arms, she would make sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here the second chapter. A thing I forgot to add: title comes from the song push pull by purity ring (a rad band). plus, thank to all the lovely people who commented and gave kudos <3


End file.
